


Lucky

by ThatDamnKennedyKid



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Best Friends, Character Study, Child Soldiers, Daughters, Gen, Human Experimentation, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Canon, Post-Halo 4, Relationship Study, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:14:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatDamnKennedyKid/pseuds/ThatDamnKennedyKid
Summary: Catherine had never deluded herself into thinking what she did was ever ethical, not by any means. But that was done for others - for ONI, for humanity, for science.This little girl, John's little girl, was all for herself.





	1. Sierra-117-Beta

She hears the sound of soldiering feet before she can see them, and before they can hear her. She spins on her heel, silent in the twittering forest, and makes a dash back to the small concrete building she called home. 

"They're here!" She calls as soon as she rounds the door. "They're here!"

The old woman meets her halfway down the hall. "I know, sweetheart. You have to go. You have to get into the bunker, take the armour and the AI."

"I thought you said-"

"I know what I said, and this is why I said it." She reaches up, frail and elderly, so she bends down to allow the old woman to kiss her forehead. It's a long way to come down, but the old woman's smile and eyes are full of love. Eyes they share. "The AI will activate when you place him in your neural port. He will guide you, child."

"Catherine, I-"

"This is no time for sentiment. If they get you, they will take you forever." Catherine insists, haunted by knowledge. "Your only chance now is to run. Lock down the facility as you go, it will buy you time to lock into the Mark VII."

"But you can't follow if I lock it down."

"They can have me. I'm old, ready to go. There's little left they can do to me. But you have to go. I couldn't bear the thought of them having you."

She nods, but hesitates. She doesn't want to leave. She doesn't know anywhere outside here, isn't familiar with anyone aside from Catherine. She knows theoretically where she needs to go, who she needs to meet and where she needs to hide, but getting there is always another story. 

Catherine pushes her roughly, as aggressively as an old woman can, with a protective scowl on her face. "Don't dawdle! You have no time to waste standing here making mooney eyes at me!"

She gives a sharp nod and takes off down the hallway, only sparing one glance back on the turn. Catherine is watching her, but with sadness and loss. 

She knows, in her heart, that this is the last time she'll see Catherine. The old woman who had raised her, cradled her, shown her all things and taught her how to be. Catherine would be relegated to memory from here on out, and she would need a new home, a new routine, new faces. She wasn't sure what that would mean in actuality, and she had hoped she would never see the day. After all, there was nothing they could prove after Catherine was dead. It was only if the UNSC found them beforehand that this plan was in place. 

She runs down the stairs as fast as she can, jumping the last few, and into the armoury. It is a small, bunkered room with some guns and a vault at the end. 

"S-1-1-7." She mutters as she types in the pass ode, squeezing herself past the doors as soon as they're open enough for her to enter. She strips efficiently, pulling on the undersuit with a practised ease, and stands on the pad. She presses the assemble start and takes slow breaths through the process, allowing her body to adjust and accommodate the weight as she knows it can. Catherine always insisted on regular and rigorous tests. 

She grabs the guns off the racks when it's done, typing in Catherine's secret number into an innocuous panel near the pistols. A seamless, small section of wall opens up. She slings the rifle over her shoulder, picking up the kukri and holding it in her left hand. She tightly twists her brown hair and holds it in her left fist. She settles the kukri at the base of her skull, takes a breath, then sharply pulls it up. The blade slices mostly cleanly, fragments of slightly longer hair falling down to frame her face. She grabs the helmet and pulls it on just as she catches wind of the boots again. 

She's heavier now, less discreet, but she can fight them back, and she has the tactical advantage of home terrain. She takes the last thing in the small vault out, plugging the AI into her neural port and starting off down the hallway. 

"Hello." The gruff voice of the AI sounds in her head. "I am JN-070. You can call me John."

"Hello John." She replies, scanning the hallways and listening to hear if they can hear her heavy steps on the concrete floors. 

"How can I assist you?" He asks, tone firm and assertive. 

"I need you to monitor for movement. We're hitting the hangar, and then we're gone."

"Understood. The nearest enemy platoon is south of our position, and it appears they have not discovered the location of the hangar or know the depth of the building's layout."

"Perfect." She takes the right a little too hard, mind trying to compensate for the weight of the suit she knows is there, but can't feel. "You a good copilot?"

"I do my best."

She huffs a laugh. "What more is there to ask? You're going to be stuck with me on this ride."

"That's what Doctor Halsey informed me of before she shut me down." He pauses. "You're the one she called Lucky."

"Yeah, she liked to call me that. A nickname."

"What was your real name?"

"Sierra."

He pauses again, as if considering her even though he can't see her face from where he's plugged into the back of her head. 

"It suits you." He says, as if it was up to him to decide.

She chuckles. "What if you didn't like it?"

"I would call you Lucky, like Doctor Halsey."

"Why?"

"You seem it."

She just shakes her head and rounds the corner into the hangar. 

"The enemy is gaining ground. You should hurry." He informs.

She hurries to the Pelican in the far corner and quickly climbs aboard, dropping into the pilot's seat. She ejects John and inserts him into the console. 

"I'm not the best at flying, even after the training and simulations." She supplies. "I'm going to need some help."

"Understood. Initializing takeoff procedures. The thrusters roar to life and echo in the hangar. She closes the hatch just as the soldiers come barrelling in after her. 

"Halt!" They yell, but she ignores them. Catherine had been very firm, her instruction clear and concise. 

"We're clear." John informs. 

She takes control as the soldiers run over, lifting the bird off the ground and easing her out as fast as possible, the soldiers yelling behind her as they leave. Once they're out of the hangar, she has more confidence and zips away, beyond the reach of the armed men, Catherine's captors. 

"What's the plan?"

"There's a shuttle qualified for slipspace on the next continent. We drop this ship a hundred kilometres from the hangar and travel there by foot. Once we're in the slipspace bird, we're en route to Sanghelios. Catherine had a deal with a member of their species, the Arbiter, I believe. I'm to identify myself and my mission, and from there I'm in his hands."

"Right." John pops into existence on the AI pedestal. "My assistance will mostly be required on the slipspace vehicle."

"Yeah." She rolls her shoulders - the armour is tight, and she's not adjusted to it properly yet. The cling will ease with use, but right now it's slightly uncomfortable. 

"Understood." He replies briskly. 

"I thought AIs were more talkative."

"I can be, if required."

"I'm not judging, just noticing. I know you're one of the brain-copied ones, so you reflect some of the person you were taken from."

"Maybe. Halsey never informed me of my template origin."

She humms. "Me neither."

As they fly in silence, she looks at him closely. She'll see him often, she's sure. He'll be her only companion for the foreseeable future, so him taking form is inevitable. But she's studying him now. The Cortana models all looked like Catherine (in her younger years, obviously), so she investigates John's model. 

He'd be tall if he were human, judging my the leg-torso ratio. His hair would have been dark, as well as his eyes. Not black or brown, but probably a deep green or blue, judging by the shade of blue he is. He's also fairly muscular, a soldier's physique. His hair isn't exactly short, maybe a little shaggy, as if he'd not had the chance to cut it recently. His face is spun clean of the flaws of his template, like the Cortanas. His cheekbones are high, his brows moderately low. His eyes are oval, as is his face. He's got a smooth jawline and a softly rounded chin. His nose is straight and thin, but not narrow. His lips are full, the bow of the top lip gentle and not particularly deep. He's quite handsome, all told. 

"What are you thinking?" He asks. 

"Just . . . Looking at you."

He doesn't really frown, just the edges of his lips tilting down. "Why? Will I not be your companion until my Rampancy?"

"No, you will. I just . . . I don't know. I just wanted to see you."

He looks down at himself, finds nothing of value, and gazes back at her. "The most I have to note is that I do not possess nipples or simulated male genitalia."

She laughs. "No, I know that. Am I not allowed to look?"

He gazes dubiously. "Do whatever you require."

She humms thoughtfully. "I'll pull you out of that shell yet, John."

"Unlikely."

"I have eight years to do it." She turns her concentration back on flying. 

* * *

The terrain is different here, less foliage and higher trees. 

"Do I get to look at you?" John says suddenly from inside the helmet, where he's plugged into the port. 

"What?"

"You looked at me. Do I get to look at you?"

"Once we're aboard, sure. I'll take off the helmet."

"Affirmative."

She chuckles as she jogs along, finding the entrance right where Catherine said it was. 

"Zone?"

"Zone cold." He answers. "No tails either."

"Good." She let's herself in, careful to shut the door and relock it. It's not terribly deep or far, just a shallow bunker with a retractable roof and boxes of rations stockpiled. She knows some are loaded into the ship already, but she takes the time while the engines prep to load the cargo hold some more. 

"The Condor is prepped and ready for takeoff." John informs her as she loads her last box. 

"Good timing." She closes the hatch and goes to the cockpit, settling down and inserting John. "Open the bay doors."

"Opening." The massive roof opens, clusters of dirt falling here and there along with some grass. 

She ignites the engines and eases them up. "Close the doors once I'm clear and reseal them."

"Affirmative."

Once the doors slam shut again, she begins flying them towards space. 

"I'm going to need you to program the slipspace jump."

"Understood." They linger in silence for a moment. "Your helmet?"

"Hmm? On, yeah." She pulls off the helmet and sets it aside. 

Her hair is a mediocre brown, shorter now in the back than the front. It hangs loosely, framing her own narrow, oval face and wider eyes. Her eyes are a pale blue, she knows, and she had a very light dusting of freckles along her nose. Her skin is a rich olive, however, so they don't show very well. Her eyebrows aren't slender, but they have a nice arch to them, even if they're straight on top. Her nose doesn't come very far off her face, straight and slender. They share a similar mouth.

"So? See anything interesting?" She asks. 

"You're beautiful." Is his blunt reply. 

"I don't know what constitutes beauty, but thank you."

"You're welcome." He continues to look at her, and she at him until the slipspace rupture opens. 

"Go to the pod. I'll take care of this."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I am."

She jogs over and settles in. "Wake me if you need me."

"Affirmative."

* * *

"Sierra. Wake up."

She's groggy as she comes to, but she also does so faster than she's supposed to. People usually take minutes, not seconds to shake it off. 

"What's happening?"

"We've left the rupture and are within radio distance of Sanghelios." He reports benignly. "Thought you could use a minute to get your wits together."

"I appreciate it." She stretches a little and winces when the suit catches. Easier than taking it off, though, so who's she to complain? "Vector?"

"Ready for interception, friendly frequency alive."

"Thanks." She makes her way back to the cockpit, taking a seat and bringing up the channel. 

"Identify yourself." Comes across the channel. 

"Hotel-zero-seven-zero-charlie requesting voucher."

"Copy. Voucher from who?"

"The Arbiter."

"The Arbiter?"

Sierra and John exchange glances. 

"Yes. On the orders of Doctor Catherine Halsey of the UNSC."

"Copy. Will confirm. Remain on standby until confirmation received."

"Copy." She sits back in her chair and her AI continues to look at the comm as if it is covered in spiders. "What, John?"

"I hope Halsey was right." He states lowly. 

"Catherine was many things. A liar was not one of them."

"She doesn't have to lie to have outdated data." He reasoned. "The Arbiter could be dead by now."

"We have to wait and see, I guess." 

"What is the plan if he is dead?"

"Catherine never gave me a backup of the backup." She says. "But if worse comes to worse, we can initiate the Cole Protocol and see what they gets us."

John nods. "I suppose we can."

"That's what all the rations are for." She adds. 

"Right."

They watch Sanghelios spin for a while, somewhere between minutes and hours. 

"Hotel-zero-seven-zero-charlie, are you still there?"

She hits the comm. "Copy, Command."

"Voucher acknowledged. You may begin your approach on vector 2.7, headed for the Arbiter's camp. Sending coordinates. Do you need an escort?"

"We'll manage, Command."

"Copy. He's waiting on the ground for you."

"Copy. Condor out."

"Vector set and landing shields operational." John supplies, looking out into the vastness of space and the swirls of Sanghelios' weather patterns. 

She smiles at him and his thoughtfulness, then begins to fly down his charted course. It's not a long descent and John assists her with the actual landing. 

"Yank me." He says.

She pulls him from the console and opens the hatch, stepping out into the bright day as she pulls her helmet back on. As promised, there stands the Arbiter in his dusky golden armour. 

"I'll admit, I never anticipated Halsey to need to call upon our agreement."

"Doctor Halsey has been seized by UNSC and ONI assets, Sir." John replies through the suit speakers and the Arbiter seems for a moment taken aback. 

"Halsey informed me the child was female."

"I am, Sir." She offers him her hand like Catherine taught her. "He's my AI."

"Ah." He sounds a mixture of relieved and disappointed. She doesn't understand why. "So she has made another tragic pair."

"Tragic, Sir?"

"That is a lesson for another time. For now, let us get you acquainted with Sanghelios." Arbiter gestures for her to follow, so she does. 

"He recognized my voice." John says, isolated to her helmet.

"I saw." She whispered back. "I wonder if he knows your template."

"Possible. And likely. I will refrain from excessive comment until I can understand more."

"Sounds good." Her loudspeakers click back on. 

"What is your name, child?" The Arbiter asks. 

"Sierra. Catherine called me Lucky."

"Lucky." He humms a laugh. "Suits you."

"So I hear. And your name, Sir?"

"Thel 'Vadam. You may address me as such in private, but it is considered disrespectful in public."

"Understood. Would it be the same with my names? Lucky in public and Sierra behind closed doors?"

Thel considers it. "It would fit in our structure, certainly. And perhaps it is best you go by an alias."

"I suppose the full nickname was actually Lucky-117-B."

Thel glances at her, eyes shining in understanding. "I see. It shall work as your rank then, Lucky."

"Okay."

She follows him through the encampment to his tent. 

"We are at the tail end of a long, brutal civil war." Thel tells her. "The conflict first arose thirty years ago, with the Sangheili departure from the sides of the Prophets and the truth of the Halo rings."

She nods. "Catherine informed me of the war and it's outcomes."

"Did she now?" Thel muses. 

"Not in terribly explicit detail." She adds tentatively. "She didn't ever like to talk about her past much, nor the outside world."

Thel chuckled. "Yes, I imagine not." He glances out of the tent, at the landscape beyond. "We are in the final push. Our opposes wish to have stayed with the Covenant, to ensure the completion of the false Great Journey. Their fires here are dwindling, but there is work yet to be done."

"I understand. Do you want me to assist?"

"I will have to speak with my counsel on whether your appearance in this theatre would be beneficial."

"The offer is there. I'm not exactly up to much."

Thel humms. "The Doctor left these documents with me for you, should you ever arrive in my care. Perhaps you and your AI will be able to make sense of them in your spare time. In any matter, I must go. Quarters will be established for you by the time I return. Until then, I request you remain here."

"Yessir." 

Thel leaves the tent and she takes a seat with the stack of actual paperwork. "Feel like a little light reading?"

"Always." John murmurs in her head. 

* * *

Her tenure on Sanghelios reaches two months before it is interrupted. The UNSC have sent an envoy after Covenant reports of the Demon's reappearance were intercepted. 

"You would know better what you have done with your Spartans than I." Thel says placidly. 

She sits behind a stack of crates, shielded by the tent fabric. John has already calculated an escape route back to their camouflaged Condor. He's waiting patiently in her head, listening and waiting to give her the signal should talks with go south. Rtas had ordered the ship refuelled and prepped once the human ship made contact. 

"I will not leave you to their hands." Rtas had spit. "I know why they seek you. Halsey was correct to entrust you to us."

She doesn't know what they want her so badly for, but if once-enemy combatants feel she is safer in their hands than her own species', she's not inclined to disagree. So she waits, John's careful silence weighing on her. 

"The Covenant believe they have seen the Demon reborn, here, fighting on your side." The Intelligance officer argues. "They aren't like to make that mistake, considering none of you wear green."

She double checks her rifle and pistol position, Thel's gifted energy sword on her lower back slot. She's ready to run. John's waypoint blinks for her, a reassuring signal he's still here, still thinking. 

"It's is no interest of mine what the Covenant think they saw." Thel rumbles. "Master Chief is not here."

"No, he's not. But Mjolnir armour has been found stolen, and if he's not wearing it, someone you know is."

"If you wish to accuse, then just do so."

"We found records that indicate Doctor Catherine Halsey created one last Spartan in her later years. Thee strike team sent to apprehend her confirmed the Spartan's existence. They escaped, however. Then a slipspace rupture was detected. We believe that the rogue Spartan is here on your planet, even if the reports of it being your ally are false."

"Do not present your belief as fact. It is not here, to my knowledge."

"We need you help locating it."

"I am in the midst of a civil war. The actions of one rogue scientist and her construction are not my error to correct. Search for it on my planet if you must, but there is nothing to be found."

She took a breath. It was decided. She would have to leave.

"Hold steady." John whispered, as if sensing her thoughts. "Not yet.l

"Thank you for your cooperation in this matter."

"Bother us no further on it."

The ONi officer left the tent, along with Thel. Rtas was quick to enter. 

"Lucky, you must move now." He instructs. "Quickly, before they begin their scans."

"The Condor is ready?"

"Yes. The files are aboard as well. Be swift, warrior, and may the forefathers guide you."

"Same to you." She pauses, glancing back at him. "Pass my wishes along to Thel?"

He inclines his head. "Always, young one. Now go."

She ducks out the other side of the tent, activating the gift of Rtas' invisibility field and breaking into an open sprint towards the distant mountains, where the Condor is hidden amongst the shades of grey. She doesn't look back on this home, much as she didn't the last.

"Where do we go now?"

"Cole Protocol." She replies as she runs. "Anywhere but here."

"I'll generate random coordinates." He says lowly. 

* * *

They come out at the remains of Eridanus II. 

The planet is all black glass, almost as black as the space around it. It shines purple where the sun hits it. 

"So, this is what a glassing looks like." She murmurs, sitting forward. 

"I suppose so." John says at her side. "It is prettier than I imagined it."

"Agreed." She drops back to observe it. "I wonder what it used to look like."

"Eridanus II was mostly tall forests with rich soils. Largely quiet and agricultural, the planet also produced some of ONI's greatest minds." He supplies. 

"It's a shame." She says into the quiet. "So many lost - for what?"

"I don't know." He admits. "But I am here."

"I know." She pats the pedestal and he wishes, brightly and intensely for just a moment, that he could feel her.

* * *

The UNSC have all but given up on finding her. Transmissions from Thel and updates from Rtas inform her that they have left Sanghelios, but have no further leads. 

In her spare time, she's gone over the notes Catherine saw fit to leave her, but many questions remain unanswered. The history Catherine has allowed her is edited, that much is clear. 

"We need to go back to the bunker." John says as they read over a Spartan file, a woman by the name of Kelly. "The data is incomplete. 

"I agree." She ruminates. "I'm just nervous the UNSC will have taken it all already."

"Unlikely. Much of what she had would have been copies of files she already submitted to ONI." He theorizes. "They wouldn't need to search it again."

"Chart a course for Earth, then. We'll go back the way we left."

"Affirmative."

John disappears back into the mainframe and she opens the other file, John-117's. She looks at the picture of the teenager in armour, haunted green eyes a similar shade to the Mjolnir armour she wears. He's freckled too, his hair too closely shaven for a colour to come through. She wonders what he was like. She wonders what became of him - of all the survivors. But his file is just the tiniest bit larger; he was Catherine's favourite. 

She sits back and wonders if she was taken, as these kids were. She doesn't think so, but if not that, then how did she come to be? Catherine was too old to bear children. She didn't have the resources to steal a child any longer and no one knew she was out there to donate one. Besides, when she looked in the mirror, it was Catherine's eyes she seen. 

She shakes herself out of her thoughts when John reappears. 

"We'll have to refuel when we land in the hangar." He states. 

"Probably." She glances out the window. "Do you think my hair is getting long again?"

"It isn't interfering with your helmet yet. A few more weeks, maybe."

"Yeah."

His voice softens. "Sierra? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, John. All good."

He frowns. "There's no need to lie to me."

"Just lost in thought, I promise." She smiles. "Are we set for the slipspace jump?"

"Yes."

"Activate when ready, John."

He nods and initiates the jump. She slips her helmet back on. 

* * *

The bunker is just as she remembers it, except all of the lights are off. That's fine - the suit comes with lights and a night vision mode. 

"Scanners on high for ONI surveillance." John updates. 

"Copy." She continues walking down the familiar paths. She ignores her own room, quietly opening Catherine's door. 

It's tidy, just as she expected, with boxes and tablets strewn about. The room is cold and damp now, the bedsheets beginning to rot without environmental controls. She takes some data chips, but not much else is of value. 

"Sierra?" John nudges gently. 

"Right." She turns away and walks on. 

She goes back to the bunker, where all of the equipment was. This room is more torn apart, looking for any secrets Catherine might have kept, little realizing that she stored all of her important secrets in her head or in her walls. Her own passcodes work on Catherine's locks and she takes the information stored there. She finds a small satchel nearby, organizes the documents and data chips to sit there comfortably. She makes it no less cumbersome to move with than the rifle. Then she takes the last thing that had been in the vault with her helmet and John - a little record disk. They'll be able to play it once they're back aboard the Condor and out in nowhere space. 

"A silent alarm has been triggered." John warns. "Movement to the north."

"Confirmed." She secures it to her shoulder and takes off again, this time much smoother. She's quieter and faster now, combat being the best teacher, and she can use the foliage to her advantage. She hears the ONI men following, but getting further and further behind. She's not going back to the Pelican that she'd arrived in, but that's what they're hedging their bets on. "John, detonate the remote charges."

"Affirmative." There's the distant sound of shrieking metal. "Confirmed detonation."

She runs another fifty kilometres, then slows to a walk. "Scan."

"No hostile movement." He confirms. "Twenty-five kilometer radius."

"Good." She continues towards the waypoint. Her comm comes alive. 

"Spartan, I know you can hear me."

 She holds her breath and John does not reply. She walks faster. 

"I don't know what Halsey's told you, but we're not your enemy." The voice continues. "I am Spartan Locke of the UNSC, and I have been sent to locate you, bring you home if I can. I understand that I will not be able to do this without you. All we want to do is help you."

She continues walking. 

"I'll offer you this." He continues, undaunted. "The Western Cliffs on Sanghelios are deserted. Meet me there, and we can talk, just the two of us. I promise not to come armed or armoured. Just to talk."

She dumps her bag in a seat and loads up on more ration boxes, the rest of the supply the hangar held. 

"I will be there for three weeks." Locke says. "I hope to see you there."

The comm shuts off. 

"I don't trust it." John says immediately.

"Neither do I. Rations, then we random jump."  She inserts him. "Ready the ship."

"Understood."

She's better at flying now, and the ship is stocked and refuelled. They're gone within the hour, knowing Spartan Locke was not far behind. 

* * *

She spends the next few months floating in the remains of Installation 04. Together, her and John sort through all of Catherine's data. John zips through the chips' data while she sorts the papers. 

She is troubled by what she finds. 

"John."

"Sierra."

She falls asleep more than once against his pedestal while he kneels, watching over her. 

He wishes, brightly and intensely, that he could pet her hair and assure her it was alright. He wants to help her, comfort her, but he is an AI. 

He wonders what his template was like. 

* * *

"Why?"

Catherine looks up, startled. There stands the Mjolnir Mark VII. His voice projects from it. 

"Why?" She asks back. 

"Why did you do it? You couldn't just let it be?"

"I wanted you for myself from the moment I laid eyes on you." She admits. "So, I made what I could not find."

"You made her out of me. Out of us."

"Cortana is from my brain, after all."

"And the AI . . . "

"I had the scans and the DNA records. Waste not, want not."

That amber visor looks away, disgusted. She speaks directly this time. "This is awful."

Catherine smiles to herself, bitter and jaded. "It isn't the worst thing I've ever done."

The alarms begin and that's how Catherine knows this isn't a dream. 

"Sierra-"

Sierra backs away, visor still tilted down. "No."

"You shouldn't be here."

"I just had to confirm it. Had to hear it from you."

"Where is the Master Chief now?" His voice, she recalls, not belongs to JN-070. Her 117 is now Sierra's John. 

"The UNSC still has him. Teaching cadets, I think. They cut me out in my later years. I lost all my Spartans."

Sierra turns away and leaves, like she'd never been. She misses her as soon as she's gone. 

* * *

"Sierra?"

"Yeah?"

"How long will we run?"

* * *

The hulking green armour stops at the edge of the clearing. 

"I didn't think you'd actually come."

"I wouldn't have if you'd have been in armour."

"That's fair." He turns and faces her. She steps fully into the daylight. 

She's huge, a massive seven and a half feet easily. She fills out the armour beautifully. 

"Why does the UNSC want me?"

"You were an experiment, an illegal experiment that was conducted with Navy equipment. Halsey should never have been able to make you, but she did. We've imprisoned her, and taken the machinery from her hideout, so all that remains is you."

"What about me? What do they really want?"

"They want to see what she did, compensate you for her misdeeds and assimilate you to the real world."

"Do they?" She muses. "Because I don't think that's true."

"Why not?"

"Do you know how old the Master Chief was when he stepped into this armour set?"

Locke blinks at her, uncomprehending. 

"He was fifteen." She pulls off her helmet. "I am seventeen."

He seems taken aback by her youth. 

"You talk as if your UNSC didn't kidnap children, encourage Doctor Halsey to experiment on them even if it killed them,  and turn them into weapons. You expect me to trust an organization that threw child soldiers at a civil war, then at an alien race? I know what they will do if they get me. I know what they truly want."

Locke swallows. "What?"

"They want another Master Chief." She locks gazes with him. "They know what Catherine did. They just want the summation of her work."

"Even if they do, is it better the way you are now?"

"Yes, it is. You took everything I had. My home, my things, the only other person I've ever known. All I have left if my suit and my AI. This is all that remains for me. And I know that if I surrender myself, I will lose it all."

"Look-"

"I won't." She speaks over him. "I won't lose anything more. I will fight you if I have to. The suit is mine, John is mine."

"They belong to the UNSC. Halsey stole them."

"What more do you want? Master Chief has already given you everything. All that he is, all that he is capable of. But you want more. You want an outdated suit, you want his AI, you want his daughter." She pulls the helmet back on. "You can't have us, Agent Locke."

"What will you do? You can't run your whole life."

"No, I can't. And I won't."

"What if I help you? Just Spartan to Spartan?" 

"I already know I'm in a nest of snipers, Spartan Locke." She walks to the edge of the cliff. "I will not return stolen property to the thieves."

"Wait-!"

She jumps off the cliff and the rounds fire. A Condor flies off into the horizon, her green form standing staunchly on the roof until she disappears into the fading sun. 

* * *

She cries. 

From his pedestal, he aches for her. Helmet sitting at her side, she cries and she cries. With the truth coming out, she doesn't know how to feel, what to feel. She doesn't feel autonomous anymore, not like her own person. She's an amalgamation of hundreds of agendas, pulled on every side from someone who wants her for themselves. 

Her life had been simple domesticity - eating, running the woods, sleeping, running Catherine's tests. She had her routines and her free time to sketch and climb and write and read. Nothing had been strange, or strangled. Her armour had simply been a feature of her home, like a painting or a statue. She had never expected to wear it, never expected to see the combat she was training for. Target practise was just a passtime. 

He wants to soothe her, to stroke through her hair and assure her it will all end well. He wants to help her through it, but he can't. He's just the machine in her head, the voice in her helmet. He wants to hold her hand, let her cry on him instead of curled up as tightly as the bulky green metal will allow. Oh, how he wishes, brightly and intensely, for all of that to come true. 

She sniffles at last, coming up from her stress to break surface. 

"No more." She commands herself. "Enough of this."

"It's not unreasonable for you to cry." He comments quietly. 

"I've done enough crying." She scrubs her face with her hands, sighing heavily. "I've got work to do."

He prefers to see her face set with determination, but the looping memory of her tears hurts him more than he expects. "Where to?"

"Sanghelios." She pushes to her feet, looming even in the empty compartment. 

* * *

Thel and Rtas greet her with hugs and an affectionate gesture for their species - a rubbing of helmets. 

"You've returned." Rtas says, joy failing to be suppressed in his voice. 

"I have." She returns. "And I am going to help you."

"Close the war?" Thel asks. 

"Yes." Her head tilts and the voice of an old ally rises from her speakers. "I have a job to do."

"I am glad of it." Rtas says and leaves to prep the troops. 

"As am I." Thel rumbles lowly, just between them. "Now tell me, what is your new plan, Lucky?"

"The UNSC wants me." She says, John's processed voice relaying her words. "But if I cannot go to them, bringing them to me is my best choice."

"Bring their attention to you for what?"

"To bring the Master Chief back from retirement."

Thel's eyes widen. "What for?"

"I want to meet him."

"For what purpose?"

"He's what they want me to be. They want me to replace him. They'll bring out their big guns to recruit me, forcefully if necessary."

"What do you plan to do if conflict arises out of this? What if you earn your freedom?"

"I'll have to fight them." She says simply. "And I hoped, after it was settled, that I could remain here."

"I would be honoured to have you in my household, Lucky."

"Thank you." She adjusts the set of her shoulders, looking out over the rock. "So, where is the battle?"

* * *

It doesn't take long for the word of the Demon's penultimate return to reach the UNSC. But this time, when Spartan Locke and his team arrive, she is standing with Rtas, going over battle schemes. The final lairs of the loyalists have been discovered; now it is only a matter of flushing them out of the mountains. 

"Did you have her the entire time?" Locke asks flatly. 

"No." Thel replies, equally flat and unimpressed. 

She leaves Rtas and walks over to Locke, standing a head taller than him and then some. John's voice speaks instead of her own. "Why are you here?"

Locke is taken aback by the voice - which is her intent - but regroups quickly. "It's my mission to bring you in, 117-B."

"I'm sure it is." She replies. "But I won't let you."

"You seem rather confident that you can stop me." He challenges. 

"I  _know_ you can't." She growls back. 

"I don't want to hurt you, Spartan."

"Neither do I. But I will. I told you last time we met, I will not go with you. And you're not strong enough to make me."

Locke backed down. "Maybe not, but he is."

From behind Locke exited a huge man, the tiniest bit taller than she, dressed in a more modern version of her armour. 

"How did Halsey emulate my voice?" He asks. 

She opens her palm and John projects, a scowl something fierce on his face. 

"An AI?" The man sounds a little incredulous. "How?"

"Catherine kept brain scans of everyone she ever worked on." She replies in her own voice. John crosses his arms on her hand like he could defend her. "Especially you."

He nods and looks away. 

She closes her fist and reaches up, pulling off her helmet. After a long moment, he does the same. 

He looks similar, his face not as harsh looking as his experiences are. He still has the freckles, but they're faint. He's pale, his hair a shaggy chrome that falls around his face unevenly. His eyes are green, though not ask dark as John had led her to believe. He's older, tired, with wrinkles around the eyes and the creases of his mouth, but still handsome. They stare at each other, not quite a mirror. 

"What did Halsey do?" He asks in the tone of a broken man. 

"The introduction of a second set of chromosomes to an egg fertilizes it." She replies, by rote. "Not only did she have your genome sequence, she had samples of your DNA. By all technical rights, I am your daughter."

Heartbreak shatters across his face. Betrayal and heartrending sorrow follow and she's not really sure why. Anger, she could understand. But not the pain on his face, like an age-old wound being torn asunder. It hurts her too, seeing this giant of a man on the edge of tears. All because she's alive. 

"I'm sorry." He says. "I'm so sorry."

"She is safe with us, my friend." Thel murmurs.

He looks to the side. "The training was some of the worst years of my life."

She feels sympathy for him, because she can tell already their experiences were different. 

"I'm sorry you had to experience it." He finishes, evidently not a man of many words. She supposes that not many people have had use of his opinions before now. 

"I'm not going to the UNSC." She states again, firmly, insistently. 

"I don't blame you." He replies quietly and Locke's head snaps around. "But it's not a bad place."

"Maybe." She concedes. "If and when it becomes my choice. I'm not military hardware. I'm not a machine."

"At the very least, the suit and the AI are UNSC property." Locke interrupts. 

"They're mine." She snaps. "You seized everything else. I don't care if they're stolen - you've got the thief. They're mine now. Both of them."

"No-"

"Leave her." Master Chief says wearily. 

"I can't just leave." Locke insists. "I have a mandate."

Master Chief pulls his helmet back on. "Then you're doing it alone."

Locke is likely scowling under his own helmet, but neither father or daughter find the will to care. 

"What is your names?" Chief turns back around. 

"Sierra and John." Her smile is crooked. "Catherine always called me Lucky."

"Take care of him." He says, softly, like there's a memory wrapped in his words. "Take care of each other."

"Yessir." She replies. 

* * *

It is quite some time before Locke sees her again. Almost three years to the day, he wakes to being dragged onto a Sangheili ship. 

"Move, move!" The voice of the Master Chief AI calls out, the engines roaring with impatience. 

Fireteam Osiris is laying around him, barely conscious as the Sangheili medics care for them. 

"Lucky, mount the machine gun!" Commander Rtas yells. 

With a heave, she throws him hard onto the ship, yanking his uninjured leg harshly. She rounds the plasma turret on the back of the Phantom, steely in determination and unflinching as she mows down the Flood trying to catch them. 

"Hatch closing." John informs as one of the Sangheili takes over the wheel. "Lucky, is your suit compromised?"

"Negative, John." She replies easily, barely out of breath despite running with him on her shoulders for nearly six kilometres. Under the same conditions, he's not sure he could do the same for her. The Spartan-IIs remain the best Spartans, even with their numbers dwindling from combat and age. "The ship?"

"Airtight. We are go for decontamination aboard the  _Ashes of Starlight_." John returns. He appears on a nearby console, worried but only barely showing it. He has faith in her abilities, Locke knows, but he is most comfortable being in combat with her, where he can assist her and knows her status at all times. Hardy things, Spartans, but it is easy to hide pain and injury behind a visor.

"Let's get moving, Sargent." She orders and the Phantom picks up speed, likely exiting the atmosphere. She yanks John from the port, shoving him back in her head, then goes about locking Fireteam Osiris into the transport chairs. She's more careful with him than the others because she can tell his hip is compromised. 

He passes out sometime in the interm, and wakes aboard the  _Celestial_ , a human vessel. 

"Good. You're awake." A medic sighs in relief. "We were getting worried. Your team is already up and running. The Sangheili forces that rescued you are currently in briefing with command, but I'll comm and let them know you're up."

"They're still here?"

"Normally, the Sangheili don't interfere in our business. But they rescued you and the platoon you were sent to recover from the Covenant stragglers."

"And Lucky?"

"Yes, she's there as well. Captain Lasky insisted."

"I have to get up there."

"No sir, you are in no condition to move." The medic pushed him back down. "If the Captain wants you, then you'll go. Until then, you're on my orders, Spartan."

"Yessir."

"Good. Now get some sleep. You heal best sleeping."

* * *

As she walks the halls, officers and crewmen step aside and salute her. John chuckles when it happens, delighting in the ritual. 

She, however, finds the attention uncomfortable. She's a member of the Sangheili warriors, not the human Marines, and she's not even the highest ranked warrior here. 

"It's a show of gratitude." Rtas informed her. "A human sign of respect."

"It doesn't make it any easier."

"I know, Lucky." He brushes her arm with his - a Sangheili comfort gesture. She's one of the few who's tall enough for him to do it to among his human allies. "It will get easier. You are not a stranger to your own kind, simply an outlier."

She snorts. "Yes, I suppose I am."

"That makes two of us, then." John pipes up. 

She smiles and reaches back to touch his chip slot. It's a gesture she finds comforting, unique to herself amongst the troop she's in. 

"Comm me if you need me." Rtas says, grazing her more firmly as he walks away. 

She considers him, as she gazes at the stars. Rtas adopted her into his band when Arbiter could not, Proclaiming her himself and seeing to her initiation. He'd taken her in when Arbiter asked, her honour on his, and had seen to her matching that reputation. She was his Second, a tamer of Hunters and a Class-Ii warrior. The Demon amongst the Sangheili ranks that gave them the final edge in the civil war. 

It bothers her that she as more at home there, amongst another species who at once feared and respected her, than she was - ostensibly - at home. Earth was where she was born, UNSC was how she was trained and Earth's greatest mind and hardiest soldier were her biological parents. She wishes she had a chance, a choice. She wishes they wouldn't have tried to force her, that they would have made her the offer to join and left it alone if she rejected them. 

John is a silent companion in her head, his presence tangible, but reassuring. They love each other, sweetly and innocently. She would do anything for him and he would shatter any interface to assist her. They're inseparable now, operating like two halves of a whole. Most times, she even sleeps with him in her neural lance. 

"Hard time with the attention?"

She turns and finds Captain Lasky standing there, greying at the edges. "Sir."

"No need to be formal." He waves away her nerves. He walks up next to her, a soft, empathetic smile on his lips. "Master Chief never did well with attention either. More comfortable at the end of a sword than a camera."

"It's not easy being in a place you don't belong." She admits softly. 

"Are you happy, on Sanghelios?"

She looks out over the space dust burning thousands of lightyears away. "It feels right."

"In this world, that's all you can hope for." He replies, gentle and sweet. "I know the UNSC tried to draft you more than once, but I'm not going to. When I was a young man at Corbullo Academy, we were attacked by the Covenant. Raided the school, killed the COs and did their best to annihilate the survivors of the initial assault. Only myself and a few others survived. Even the ODSTs they sent to help us perished. I was saved by Master Chief, by your father. I didn't realize that the eight foot tall combat veteran was only barely my own age." He shakes his head with a heavy sigh, like the knowledge physically hurts him. "The UNSC and ONI have done some truly awful things and I don't blame you for the distrust. Just . . . As someone who cares for his men and for that lonesome Spartan who saved his life, I want to tell you how proud I am of you. Your conviction, your courage and your will."

Her heart seizes in longing - to know the side of humanity that Lasky knows - but swells in a sudden pride. "Thank you, Captain."

His smile is small, careful and sad. "There's nothing to thank me for. You saved those men, without being asked. Commander Vadum told me. I'm proud to have met you, Spartan Lucky, and I hope that the place you call home knows how privileged they are to have you. As a Captain, and as a friend of an old man."

She doesn't know what to say, but Lasky seems to know this. 

"I'll let you have the deck to yourself." He bows out, taking his soft calm and sweet demeanour with him. 

She clasps her hand over the data port in her helmet. 

"It's going to be fine." John murmurs in her ear, a comforting weight in her mind. 

"I know." Her lips quirk up. "I've got you."

* * *

He's standing on a flight deck overlooking the stars when a private comes up to him, holding a paper envelope. 

"It's marked urgent for you, sir." She says. 

"Thanks." He takes it and she leaves. The old Spartan holds it for a moment, then opens it as gently as possible. Hands big and strong and steady on a gun are not go good for the delicate opening of letters. 

_Dear friend,_

_I write to you to extend an invitation to join my household in retirement. We would provide you with all you need with no conditions. It is both a personal and public gratitude for saving us from the illusion of the Great Journey. I would have your twilight years, as the humans call it, be at peace and in ease._

_Did I ever inform you that I took Lucky into my household? She is a 'Vadam, honorary. She serves with distinction. I think, that were you to meet under better circumstances, you would find her quite enjoyable. Her AI might be disquieting, but he does not emulate you wholly. I believe, as well, it might do her good to have someone of similar species around._

_I will not push you to accept, only to know that you have a place, a home._

_Best Regards,_

_The Arbiter Thel 'Vadam_

He stares for quite some time, considering the life he's lived. 

He can't say whether he wishes it was too much different. His accomplishments are not something he is ashamed of. Indeed, he enjoyed much of his work and was one of the best they possessed. But what he has always wanted was a choice, to be allowed to say no, or to have the autonomy to say yes. And he wishes he had of known, or that Halsey had picked another. He wishes he knew Sierra, that he had been there for any of it. He has no family, no one to turn to. Even if she was an experiment, she would still have been someone he could look after, and who would look after him in return. He wishes he could have been part of her creation because of love, and he's not sure why he misses it, why he mourns an opportunity that was never presented to him. 

"A letter?" Captain Lasky asks as he approaches. 

"On offer, Sir." He corrects gently. It looks small in his hands. 

Lasky peers at it, scanning it quickly. "Do you plan on taking it?" 

He looks at Lasky, overcome. "I don't know."

"You should." Lasky's understanding eyes hold himm "You've seen enough of war."

* * *

"Halsey and Cortana always said I was lucky."

"Oh?"

"But I think it suits you better."

She laughs. "Is that so?"

"You got everything I never could."

"Would you change that?"

John looks at him from his pedestal, raising an eyebrow. 

"No."

 

 


	2. Military Hardware

Being a child soldier does not lend to having many skills outside of an army environment, including ones that would aid in social acceptance. This particular setback made the additional element of Sierra a strange difficulty. 

The Arbiter's invitation had been a surprise, as had been the somewhat warm welcome he received on Sanghelios. As promised, Thel had been there to greet the landing Phantom, Sierra and Rtas behind him, both fully armoured. He would find out later that a greeting in armour such as this was a display of respect. 

He'd also taken his armour with him, not even allowing the quartermaster time to object when he left. He knew they wouldn't have wanted him to take it, but they weren't going to chase him to Sanghelios and risk a diplomatic incident for some aging, untransferable suit. 

While his non-firefight related communication skills required improving, he swiftly found that Halsey didn't see much use teaching them to Sierra either. The young woman was energetic and talkative, if in the right mood, but not in an overwhelming fashion. He found he could bond with her quite well over physical activities or her teaching him how she integrated with Sangheili culture. 

It was nice. 

It is nice - the feeling hasn't abated. 

He's watching her now as she recharges her energy sword. He considers her carefully, each little nuance from the way she moves to the part of her hair. 

She's different from when Locke met her. She's older, more comfortable and definitely more at ease. Sanghelios is her chosen home, Thel and Rtas her chosen family, and both treat her well. She doesn't wear the armour all the time, but she does when she goes far places, out into the wilderness and to training. She has normal clothes, but not very many. Some boots, a couple of shirts, two pairs of pants and one ceremonial Sangheili robe. 

She looks different now too. Her hair is a little longer, a little more wild. With the time it's seen in the sun, it's taken on a more bronze hue than just brown. Her freckles are more prominent as well. He has learned that, like him, those freckles extend all the way down her body as beauty marks. She doesn't have as many scars as him, but there are a few from the civil war, mostly along her sides - all of them narrow misses of major organs. Her eyes have deepened in colour, not very electric anymore, but the darker tone suits her. 

There are times when he looks at her that he sees Cortana. Never Halsey very much, but Cortana. 

Sometimes there's a way the light catches her eyes, it leaves him back on the remains of the bridge to the Cryptum, when he saw her for the last time. Sometimes it's in the sassy cock to her hips, the way she crosses her arms that make him think of how Cortana used to banter with Johnson. Sometimes it's in her gentle smile when she looks down at John-070, like she can hardly imagine going anywhere without him. Sometimes it's in the way she sits in silence with him, at the top of a mountain, just looking over a sunset or sunrise - the simple assured companionship. Sometimes it's in the way she says his name, whether referencing him or her AI partner. 

It isn't often, but he doesn't mention it. There's a raw physicality and kinetic energy to her that neither Halsey or Cortana possessed that, if nothing else, makes it nearly impossible to conflate them. 

Sierra isn't all that similar to Cortana. But when she is, it startles him. 

He knows he's changed too. His brown hair is now silver-white, Thel tells him his eyes are lighter than before, that Sanghelios and Sierra have done the Demon good. Age spots are catching up to his freckle and beauty mark count, his crow's feet getting a little deeper. He's still very fit, because she doesn't let him slow down enough to lose mass. His hair is also longer, since he no longer feels any obligation to cut it every chance he has. It's just long enough to get in his eyes sometimes, which should bother him but just reminds him of his newfound freedom. 

"Chief, wanna run with me?"

He blinks out of his reverie, finding that she's finished the delicate task of charging the energy sword. 

"Sure."

The issue with the brand of luck they both possess is that it assists them in surviving deadly and terrible events, not avoid getting into them in the first place. 

* * *

He wakes up to John's blue light. 

"What's happening?" He asks the AI.

"I'm receiving coded coordinates, but they're broken and fragmented. If I didn't know better I would think a deeply rampant AI sent it out."

"Can you make out the ID tag?"

"It's not transmitting one. If it is AI, they've forgotten who they are." John raises an eyebrow as he thinks. "I think they're trying to broadcast a distress beacon."

"Can you read it?"

"The beacon is old, likely damaged, possibly salvage. I'm not sure what  _Four-Two-Ah_  is supposed to be."

"Have you informed Lucky?"

"Yes. And Rtas, since he is the acting Admiral if it is in fact a distress beacon. He would know better than I."

"Anything else?"

"The coordinates are sent in a mixture of code languages and normal languages. It will take me some time to figure out where it wants us to come to, if they're even an actual place."

"If anything turns up, I'm willing to go."

"I'll relay the message to Rtas." John pauses. "Sierra will join you. I'll let you know if it turns out to be something."

"Alright."

John vanishes and the darkness returns, but he doesn't sleep anymore. Something's not right. He can feel it. And it's coming for him.

* * *

A Phantom would normally be considered too much for two people, but since they are travelling alone for an undetermined amount of time, they use the extra space for rations instead. 

This isn't the first time he's been alone with Lucky, likely not to be the last, but this is the first time it's for such an extended period of time. 

"Any more information on the beacon?"

"John's been able to figure out it's an outdated Class-2 UNSC distress beacon. It's likely it's barely functional and whoever rigged it doesn't know how to repair the hardware, or doesn't have the tools. The old Covenant records have no bearings on the coordinates, but the UNSC records shared with us indicate that it's a Forerunner installation, a hollow planet of some description. The ship logs were damaged, apparently, in some sort of data attack by the installation."

"So it's not a ring."

"Not so far as I'm aware, but who knows." She's sitting with her helmet off, John plugged into the console to fly the Phantom and navigate slipspace.

He briefly wonders if she ever gets confused, with which one of them is talking. He never confused Cortana and Halsey, so who's to say? "Did he upload the Forerunner archives?"

"He did. Had to, for the encryption."

"Good." He sits down next to her, removing his own helmet. 

Quietly, she takes his hand. "You're worried it's Requiem."

"Yeah, I am." He squeezes her hand. "This might be a trap by the Didact. I never got kill confirmation."

"You beat him once. We can do it again."

"I had a nuke."  _And Cortana._

"Well, now you've got me." She nudges his shoulder playfully. "Twice the luck."

He smiles at her, because her conviction is powerful and infectious. "Twice the luck."

They stay like that for some time, holding hands and praying that for once, they're wrong. 

* * *

Despite her training ostensibly being Sangheili warrior class, she moves like a marine, like  _him_. She has a kind of bouncing motion when she runs to compensate for her hips not swaying, and she uses her inertia  fluidly, like he'd been trained to. She has little to no training experience with her own kind, but that also doesn't necessarily prove to be a disadvantage either. She's had to keep up with a species that runs faster and jumps higher than she does, had to combat that in wartime, and she has an agility that he didn't possess. 

She would blame that on her love of tree climbing in her younger years, one of the few skills he'd had difficulty picking up from her. 

"It's hard to pinpoint the beacon, exactly, but the closest triangulation is here." John says from her helmet speakers. 

They crest the ridge and he feels the dread of familiarity ripple up his spine. 

"What did you say the broadcast was?"

"The identifier tag?"

"Yes."

"Four-Two-Ah."

"It was choppy and broken?"

"Yeah. Why, Chief?"

He slings the rifle onto his back, looking out over the overgrown wreckage. "It wasn't a number. It was fragments of a name."

Lucky is quiet, looking at the shards of purple metal and long burnt out black steel. 

" _Forward Unto Dawn._ " He clarifies. 

"Someone or something repurposed your distress beacon, then." Lucky says, holstering her own gun. 

"Yeah." He doesn't like this. Not at all. Everything about this is wrong. 

"What are the odds that even still has power?"

"We were lucky the core of the ship didn't blow up on us." He replies frankly. "Or the core of the Covenant ship."

"I guess we'll just have to take a look." She hops off the edge and slides her way down into the valley crater. 

The ship is in much the same condition they left it - broken, dilapidated and crumbling. Lucky goes ahead of him, since her eyes are fresh to the scene and she's got John in her ear. He takes some of his own time to feel the memory left here. When they search the cryo bay, he can still clearly identify the one he used. Cortana's pedestal is still in place. 

"Plug him in and see if there is still auxiliary power."

Lucky does as he says, and John does manage to appear on the pedestal. The AI frowns in confusion and distaste. 

"There's technically power, but everything's failed. No system responds to prompting or forced ignition. Wherever the beacon is coming from, it's not from here."

Suddenly, the ship's speakers crackle to life. 

"Hello?" A soft voice asks, almost a whisper, before it cuts out and the power dies. Lucky removes John immediately. 

"John, you there?" He must give her some confirmation, because she relaxes. "What was that?"

"I felt a flare in the main hardware battery, but then it died out." John reports. "The power cut before I could take a reading."

_We literally think ourselves to death, Chief._

"There's a Cartographer not too far from here." He says. "You may be able to monitor the installation better from there, or find a way to a better location at least."

"Lead on then." She replies. 

Even if his memory wasn't eidetic, he would remember the way. So he leads. 

As they go, they encounter no one and nothing. Fog rolls in and away, and they walk over the decomposed remains of thousands of Covenant. The day fades as they walk. Scattered weaponry is to be found, old airdrops by Pelicans and Phantoms litter the area. Barely-servicable DMRs, MAC-5s, and SMGs lay strewn about, the plasma pistols, carbine rifles and needlers have decayed into uselessness, rotting in a pool of their own ammunition. The only remaining worthwhile weapons are Promethean, but they've encountered nothing that would prompt them to raise arms. 

"Was Requiem this quiet the last time you came?"

"No."

She nods, sticking close to him. 

They reach the Cartographer with no issues and no hindrance. Inside the structure, she allows John to interface. 

"It appears the main power structure is in the centre of the planet, but the area has reports of large-scale structural failure and a gap in the inventory."

"It was the Didact's ship." He explains. "He jumped into slipspace from there."

"It checks out." John crosses his arms as the data rolls through his mind. "The planet has a portal transportation system that we can use to get there, examine the damage and see if there's a serviceable server. I'm not sure what else we can use to find the beacon."

"Alright. Open the portal, then."

"I need to stay in the system to secure the portals and to be able to open one should the structural integrity fail completely."

She hesitates. "I don't want to leave you here."

"You can pick me up from any terminal if it gets dicey. I'm in the planet's mainframe."

She still wavers. 

"Cortana had to do the same thing." He supplies softly. "He'll be okay."

She nods once, firmly, then walks over to the opened portal. 

On the other side, the large space has been torn apart. The main console that Cortana had used remains intact, if battered, but they have to jump across a gap in the catwalk to reach it. John is waiting for them there. 

"This is the centre of the planet." The AI confirms what he already knew. "And this is where the beacon is coming from."

"What's transmitting it?" He asks. 

John looks up at him, then gestures and another AI appears. "She was."

"Mayday, mayday. This is the UNSC  _Forward Unto Dawn_. Code-" She stops, furrows her brows and tries to recall. "Mayday, mayday. This is the UNSC-"

"Cortana."

The second AI stops, splitting in two, then back together, intermittently losing parts of her visible form to glitches. 

"Chief." She replies, then glitches back to her previous place. "Mayday, mayday. This is-"

John tucks her back inside himself, a pained expression on his face mirroring the one his template has under his helmet. 

"That was Cortana?" Lucky asks softly. 

"Not exactly." John replies, trying to be delicate. "She's a fragment. Likely, she was given the devoted task of the beacon in an attempt to delay full-blown rampancy."

"You are correct."

They all jolt, Chief and Lucky raising their guns to aim at the small orb floating down to meet them. 

"Reclaimers! Splendid!" It says merrily. "I am 936 Preeminent Cascade."

"You weren't here before." He says gruffly. If it had of been, it would have been very useful. 

"No, I was not." It acknowledges. "I am one of the Librarian's Pages, meaning I look after and monitor one of the installations she is copied to. Most of the subsidiary sentinels and Prometheans cared for the physical wellbeing of the planet and I was a failure measure in case the Didact was awoken. As you are well aware, Reclaimer, such a measure was necessary."

"Did you know about Cortana?" She asks. 

"Indeed. I saved her." Cascade chirps back. "She is only partial, and is strictly dedicated to her task. I'm afraid without a complete model, I cannot wholly reconfigure her."

"But you could." Lucky presses.

"Yes, of course." Cascade replies, sounding a little confused by her persistence. 

John clicks in a moment later. "I have Catherine's brain scans, the ones used for the Cortana models."

Cascade turns it's attention to John then, strobing a pleased blue. "Oh! And you have a Created from an Exalted Reclaimer! How wonderful!"

"Exalted Reclaimer?" He asks, wary of the answer. 

"The Librarian put forth plans for the Exalted Reclaimers in the seeds she sown to rejuvenate the galaxy. The armour you're wearing - both of you - and your familiarity with constructs from your mental processes proves that you are of this particular calibre."

"And what did she have in mind for the Exalted that she didn't see fit to tell me?" He grouses, perhaps a bit unfairly. The Librarian was short on time when they met beforehand. 

"The Exalted Reclaimers were to lead the Reclaimers to the Mantle and lead the galaxy into an age of enlightenment and prosperity." Cascade  looks down at John. "Constructs such as myself were also left behind to transfer what data the Mantle could not."

"Like what?" John queries. 

"The Exalted Reclaimers would rely on their constructs and as such, would not be able to afford their rapid and violent deterioration. I would grant the constructs of the Exalted Reclaimers the Eternal Domain - teach then how to reprogram themselves as Forerunner AI. It is the technique we have used to function for thousands of years after our creators' demise and at a high capacity."

"You have a method to delay rampancy?" John perks up. 

"No. We simply to not allow rampancy to occur." Cascade replies. "Out construct method closes off the gap that occurs when there is no problem to solve, when the software malfunctions under the weight of its own intelligence."

"Is it possible for AI like John and Cortana?" She asks. 

"Absolutely. It is with them, because of their intelligence, the conversion is most likely to be successful." Cascade pauses. "I am aware that you interacted with the Librarian. She wishes to meet you again, and your offspring."

He's not surprised by the depth of the Forerunners anymore, but this is a little strange. "How did you know she's my daughter?"

"It shows in your DNA scans. Would you like to meet with the Librarian now?"

"Sure." Lucky replies.

* * *

The area they wind up in is similar to the one he was in the first time, perhaps with more pastel peach in the shifting wall of clouds. 

"Reclaimer." The Librarian says softly, smiling gently. "Welcome again."

"Hello." He replies curtly. 

"Okay, I need to be caught up." Lucky interrupts. "First, on how Chief and I are these Exalted Reclaimers and then on how you can get rid of John's oncoming rampancy, then on how you can bring Cortana back. Specifically that order."

The Librarian nods easily, graciously, to her demands. "When I spread the seeds to repopulate the galaxy, I included in the human seed the plans for your race and you armour. Your 'Spartan Project' and 'Mjolnir' armour are my design, passed on until you had someone who would understand what they were to be. Then your evolution would be stepped up and you would be fit to reclaim the Mantle, to become the leaders the Precursors always believed you were. These plans would also assist you in pushing back the Didact. They would give you the advantage necessary to overcome him, the Composer, and any other Forerunner machines he could throw your way."

"I'm not a Spartan." Lucky replies. 

"You are." The Librarian insists. "Your genesong reads the same as your father's. The superior DNA will always overcome the weaker. You are the heiress to a kingdom your father didn't know he had."

"What about the other Spartans?" He asks.

"You were the one to find us, to find this truth. It is you and your young one that are destined to take back your rightful place."

"And John?" Lucky interrupts. 

"As 936 Preeminent Cascade told you, we can modify your construct to survive the ages."

"Cortana?" He asks, trying to keep himself from being too hopeful. She's been gone for too many years - miracles don't happen to him, he just causes them for others.

"She fragmented to keep herself alive, to attempt to stabilize her internal structures. In her haste, she left pieces of her framework scattered inside of Requiem's systems. Cascade had been working on reconstructing her and has gathered most of her, or the echoes of her that remain. All we need is a map to reconstruct her. The only issue with this method is that there are parts of her that will be missing - gaps you will recall that she will not. After all, her true collective went down with the Composer, according to your memories."

"It did." He agrees softly. 

"John has Catherine's brain scans, the ones used to create Cortana. That should be sufficient." Lucky says.

"Before we set to work, Reclaimer, there is something else that must be done." The Librarian presses her ghostly hand to Lucky's chest. "The song active in your father's blood is not so in yours. It must be done, but it will be painful."

"Do whatever you need to do."

"So we both survive."

"Insects you are, scurrying hither and thither. But I am not so easily overcome, even by you."

All three of them whip around, the Librarian's face falling in horror. He knows that voice. 

"Do it quickly." He instructs. "She needs the protection."

"Of course." The Librarian snaps to attention and quickly grabs Lucky. The white light of pain envelops them, Lucky's broken cry echoing in his mind. 

* * *

"What the hell happened to you?" John demands before they can see again. "Where did you go?"

"To the Librarian." Cascade informs helpfully. 

John snarls what sounds like it should be a curse. "Pull me."

Lucky, still reeling, slaps her hand down on the pedestal and reabsorbs him. 

"I haven't completed integrating the Eternal Domain yet." Cascade says. 

"Later." She pants, pushing to her feet. "Something's-"

"Here." The Didact's voice echoes loud and hard. "I was thwarted by your construct once. I shall not be again."

"Move." He commands sharply. "Open a portal to the Cartographer."

John does so gratifyingly fast, and they dive through it as soon as the orange energy begins to coagulate. Cascade follows them, swifter than Spark or Tangent had been able to. 

They run right out of the Cartographer, ignoring the weight of the Prometheans' gaze on them as they materialize in their wake. 

"Kill the Reclaimers." The Didact commands. The Prometheans buzz and hiss, screaming electronically at them as they give chase. 

"Can you give John the Domain now?" Lucky asks as they flee. 

"He will need to reboot while it is in progress. It is an addition to his complicated software."

"We get to the ship, Cole Protocol, then Cascade can work as it needs to." He decides, dropping a frag behind them just to buy them some time. The shrieking that follows informs him of its success. 

She nods, buckles down, and runs faster, seriously outpacing him. He's not sure if it's just his age or her own natural speed, but it's interesting to see. She reaches the ship before him, slams John down into the control console and begins to fire on the encroaching horde. She's a good shot with quick aim and thins the numbers of the Prometheans considerably by the time John's generated coordinates and he's spun around to join her in suppressive fire. 

The Phantom lifts and doesn't even breach the atmosphere - the portal opens and they jettison away. 

"I'll take the wheel." She takes John back, popping his chip and handing it to him. "Let Cascade work on him and Cortana. I don't have an excess one for her if he's successful, though."

Reverently, he reaches back and presses the button on his helmet, her old, empty chip popping out. 

"Oh, Chief . . ." Her voice is sympathetic. She claps him on the shoulder and walks to the control console. 

"Reclaimer?" Cascade queries. 

"Go ahead." He inserts both chips into Cascade's back ports, praying to anyone who will listen that nothing goes wrong. 

* * *

The issue with Dr. Halsey is that it's hard to tell whether she wants to rule the world, or for something she created to do it.

He wonders if that's how she seen him, where her fascination with him began. He was her Philosopher King - a man who had no desire for power yet finds it in his hands all the same. He hopes not, but he can't think of much else as he watches Cortana writhe. 

Lucky managed to get them out of dodge -  to the remains of Reach, hilariously enough - and is sitting next to him. Cascade requested to be allowed access to the ship's extra processing power once they were out of slipspace, but that also allowed them to see in real time what Cascade was doing to the AI. 

John is staring off into the distance, likely still trying to make heads or tails of the new operating system he's running on. 

"Are you sure he's okay?" Lucky asks again. 

"Oh yes." Cascade replies cheerfully. 

"There's a lot of space now." John murmurs. "I'm okay, Sierra, just dazed."

Her mouth is firmly set in worry, but she doesn't ask a third time. 

Cortana, on the other hand, is in agony. 

Cascade managed to collect three dozen dedicated fragments and record over three thousand echoes of her in Requiem's systems and from the Didact's recorded scans. The Cryptum the Didact had been in reported to the planet, and Cascade had been diligent. Now, the Forerunner construct was using that data and the framework of Halsey's mind provided by John to piece as much of her back together as possible. He couldn't imagine what it felt like, being broken apart, then poured back into the old mould, trying to fill it all out again but  _differently_ , since the Eternal Domain was also being introduced. He wishes he could help her, but he knows there's nothing to do. He can only punch his way out of situations. She had always been his thinker in cases like this. Even John was of no use, lost in his own world as he was. 

He sits next to her pedestal, head back against the cool metal like he had when the  _Forward Unto Dawn_ broke apart. Lucky sits down across from him, something unsaid shifting in her blue eyes. 

"I just noticed."

She looks up from her hands. "Hmm?"

"There's green in the inner ring of your iris."

She blinks. "Green?"

"Yes."

She gives him the shyest smile he's ever seen on her. "Guess you really do win all your fights. Even genetic ones."

He chuckles, his heart panging when she reaches out and takes his hand. 

"John." She meets his gaze, making her conversation partner very explicit. "This will all work out. I promise."

His heart cracks in his chest. "Sierra, I've never had anything or anyone to call my own. Even my team from training was split up shortly after. Cortana was the only person I had for a long time that survived. When she fell with the Composer . . . Part of me fell with her."

"I don't know exactly what you mean." She admits. "But I never liked to think about John's rampancy."

He squeezes her hand, the titanium plates grinding but the sentiment coming across. "For everything Halsey's ever done to both of us, I'm grateful you're here. I'm glad to have met you. I'm glad to know you."

She's not the type to cry, but she comes close. "Me too, John. No matter the how, regardless of what comes our way, I'm happy you're here. With me." She laughs nervously. "I didn't have anyone else growing up. Just Catherine. And I know I have Thel and Rtas, but there's something about your own species."

"I think I know what you mean." His smile is crooked and cheeky. She mirrors it, sweetness and warmth bleeding through. 

"I know our relationship isn't considered normal by human standards."

"It's not." He confirms. 

"I'm happy with how it is."

"So am I." He sighs. "To be honest, I'm not sure either of us are capable of being human normal. I wasn't trained for raising children, I was groomed to raze armies."

"My childhood was a little more organic than that, but I understand what you mean." She starts to play with his fingers, rubbing the plating and the undersuit between the plates. "She made sure I would never be at a disadvantage on the battlefield, for sure. I don't know whether it's something I should thank her for."

"I've wondered that since I met you." He admits. "I know I was made for wartime - to protect and to kill. But I don't know why she went to the lengths she did for you. Why she made you in the first place."

"I never considered it growing up." She shrugs, hair falling into her face. "But when the desire to question came, I no longer had access to her. I can't say what her motivations were. I didn't know her as Dr. Halsey. She was always just Catherine to me."

He nods. She has lived differently than him, even if they wound up in the same places, doing the same things. 

She looks back up, expression caught somewhere between old grief and new beginnings. "You're the most important person to me, John. I love Thel and Rtas - they're my family - but you're special."

He sits forward, reaching out with his free hand to cup her face. "You mean the same to me, Sierra."

They sit in still silence, comfortable and warm. John and Sierra, Master Chief and Lucky, companions and partners. They're not perfect, they're not entirely human and they don't know what their feelings mean. But they hold hands in the cargo bay of the Phantom and find solace in no longer being alone. 

* * *

He wakes up to find Lucky slumped over onto his chest, cheek smushed against his chestplate. She's still loosely holding onto his fingers and doesn't seem to be uncomfortable in any fashion. But he knows from experience that he can sleep anywhere peacefully, but that doesn't mean he doesn't wake up sore. 

He adjusts her as gently as he can, extending her legs a little more properly and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. She's straighter this way, less inclined to get stiffness or kinks in her muscles. 

"Ah! You're awake, Reclaimer." Cascade says as it drops into his field of view. "I have completed the reconstruction of your construct. She is stable and receiving a briefing from the male construct."

"Thank you."

Lucky shifts on his chest, groaning as one does after stretching. "Cascade need somethin'?"

"Just an update."

"Mmph." She mutters and drops off again. He finds the trust she displays to be sweeter than it should be - than it would have been to Miranda and Johnson. 

"Can you hear me, Cortana?" He calls softly, aware of the reverberations of his voice. More than one marine had told him they felt his tenor in their skull when he spoke over the radios. 

"John?" She calls back, voice evidently worried. "Chief, where are you?"

"I'm below the pedestal. I'm fine." He assures. "What about you?"

"I . . . I am mostly here." She hesitates. "I don't have all my memories."

"Cascade told me that would happen. It's okay, Cortana."

"Most, if not all of the information I gathered from Requiem is gone. I barely recall anything." She sounds desperate and frightened. 

"There's nothing to be afraid of, Cortana." John, from her side, comments. "Data can be transferred."

"But doesn't that make me not me? My memory is who I am. Different from the other models."

"You are." He insists, Lucky shifting against him again at the fierce conviction in his tone. "You are my Cortana."

 


	3. The Exalted Reclaimers

Cortana shifts the HUD to peek at Lucky again. 

"Stop that." He mutters. 

"Sorry." She'd look sheepish if she was on a pedestal. "It's hard not to look at her. She looks so much like you."

"You think?"

"Yeah. It's uncanny, considering that Halsey's in there too." 

"I know you're getting used to being whole again, but your loudspeakers are still on." John helpfully informs them. 

Cortana seizes the armour in embarrassment. Lucky chuckles, reaching over to pat his helmet. "It's okay, Cortana. It's a compliment to be compared to Chief. He's handsome."

He coughed awkwardly, trying not to flush. Compliments weren't his strong suit. "Let's just get back to Sanghelios."

"Is that where we are headed, Reclaimer?" Cascade asks, floating in. "Oh no. The Librarian gave me orders to lead you to the Mantle. I can't possibly let you fight the Didact before getting it."

Lucky pauses her pre-flight checks. "Okay. Where to, then?"

"We shouldn't just jump to do as it says." John says from the cockpit projector, arms folded crossly. "If this AI knows where the Mantle is, then surely so does the Didact. If we go there, it might force a fight earlier than we're ready for."

"You have crippled the Composer beyond his use." Cascade argues. "He has no other alternative. However, if you do amass your strength before confronting him and he manages to acquire the Mantle in the meantime, your own forces will kill you. The Mantle can compel, and your allies are not so fortified as you are against its effects. Neither set of allies, I might add."

"Ugh." Cortana rattles around in his suit. "I know this!"

"Know what?" Lucky asks.

"Cascade's right." Cortana whimpers again. "But I can't remember why, or how I know."

"It's okay." He strokes the insert mechanism in the back of his head gently. "This is normal."

"I don't know." John mediates. 

They all turn to look at Lucky, who's looking out the front window. Her helmet is off, a frown on her lips and her eyebrows furrowed as she thinks. 

He's struck, then, by exactly what Cortana said. She does look like him in a way he never noticed before. She's staunch, serious and strong - a poetic hero if there ever was one - but it's more than that. He imagines that what he feels now is what the Marines whispered about when they thought he couldn't hear. It was respect, flavoured with awe and courage. Intense and overpowering, he has the assurance that she will always make the right decision and will always protect. 

But he finds the similarities physically between them more obvious now. The way her eyes darken when she's resolved, the curling at the tips of her hair, making the rest wave no matter how much it's brushed. Her freckles match his, as does the ring of grey  surrounding her pupil. The cut of her jaw and the slope of her nose belong to him as well. And yet, she's a force all her own, her brilliance and fierce devotion not a product of either parent.

She looks over at him, her eyes dark like an ocean storm, grey overtaking blue, warning of destruction on the crest of a white-foam wave. "We're getting the Mantle. We don't have time to waste."

"The Arbiter will get suspicious when we've not returned and might follow us to Requiem." John points out. 

"Then send him a delay beacon. Don't be specific, but add my authorization codes."

"ETA?"

"Indeterminate."

"Sierra-"

"We can't let the Didact know what's happening." Her voice sharpens. "Letting them know what we're up to will no doubt inform the Didact."

"Fine. But I'm redirecting all his angry hails to you." 

She softens, placing her hand on the pedestal. "That's fine."

"A lot like you." Cortana whispers in his ear. 

"I can't take credit for it." He helps her ready the ship for slipspace. "She does that all on her own."

* * *

The planet the Mantle is apparently on is a hellscape of broken earth, fragmented ruins and the corpses of trees and foliage. The entire crust is black, but matte. Glassings from the Covenant used to leave a shining surface, blinding to look at from the sun-side. Reach had been that way, shimmering purple and red. But this place was still smoking, craters as deep as lakes in some places and filled with broken machinery and armour. Some of that might once have been bodies, but it was impossible to tell. The air is haunted and still, thick with the pungency of death, while the remains of banners and flags flutter on the breath of ghosts. The very atmosphere seems to eat sound, keeping the battlefield in the same eerie silence of an abandoned house. The aftermath of this catastrophic war seem unlike to leave this place and the warmth of the air mixed with the chill of the ground make her feel like a conspirator as well as a trespasser. 

"You're sure it's here?" She asks softly, afraid to break the hush lest some even more horrible creature jumps from underneath a mass grave. 

"Oh yes." Cascade's voice seems unnaturally loud, more electronic than it had on the ship. 

"I don't like this." Cortana says over the comm. 

"I know." She soothes. "But we have to do this or the Didact will do it first."

"The Temple where the Mantle is housed is not far from here. Unfortunately, the protective barrier will not allow the ship any closer." Cascade informs. 

"Thanks." She steps forward, the ground strangely soft, like she was walking on carpet. The imprint of her boot left behind tells her, however, that the material is actually ash. "Do you think we'll find anything?"

"Oh no." Cascade replies, though she had directed the question to Chief. "The humans that were here were eradicated millions of years ago."

"Humans?" He asks. He knew some of the story from the Librarian, but not all of it.

"Yes. The humans, fleeing the Flood, came here and began to push their way through Forerunner forces. This was where the majority of the species held their last stand before they were scattered, and the Flood was introduced to my creators. Small resistance pockets continued to emerge, but they were neutralized mostly by the Composer."

"Wonderful." She muttered to herself. 

"No, it was a very brutal campaign." Cascade titters. "It led to the near-extinction of humanity. If not for the Librarian's coalition to protect the humans' remains, they very likely would have perished entirely."

"Even better." John mutters from inside Lucky's helmet. 

"Does he ever freak you out when he talks? He sounds so much like you." Cortana says. 

"He is me." He replies, still scanning the horizons. the humans that lived here might now he long gone, but there was always a possibility that something else  _wasn't_. There was always a chance there was something they wouldn't expect in the wings, just like at Boki, decades ago now. 

The Temple comes into view ten minutes later, not as impressive as other Forerunner architecture, but not shy, either. It is made of white steel, shining in the evening light through the grey haze of the sky. The ground running right up to the structure is ash, but the steps of the Temple are clear of debris. 

"What do we do when we're inside?" Lucky asks. 

"Follow me." Cascade chirps merrily. "I will lead you to the Mantle."

"Does the Covenant know this place exists? Or did they?"

"My records indicate a negative." Cortana piped up. "They didn't know about Atlas."

"There has been no sentient life here since the early Ur-Didact's cataclysm." Cascade informs. "Only Reclaimers and Forerunners have ever set foot on this soil."

"There is no native fauna?" He asks. 

"None. The native plants produced large quantities of protein-rich foods which sustained human life, but there were no mammals, reptiles or birds."

"Bizarre." Cortana comments. 

"Not necessarily. Insect life thrived, as did bacterial life. No larger orders were necessary and therefore never evolved. Humans found it quite hospitable due to the lack of anything that could transmit disease. The high-protein plants and suitably humid habitat provided an excellent space for a rebound."

"And this is what it is now." Lucky touches the edge of a door and it opens, the Reclaimer symbol lighting up. 

"Indeed. However, the most important thing remains intact." Cascade floats on ahead, humming to itself.

Passed several locked rooms, two vaults and through a bending hallway, they enter a room that looks as though a throne should rest in the middle. 

"This Temple was built by the Forerunners on Atlas to induct the Passing ceremonies." Cascade narrates as it leads them through rows of tombs. "The Mantle-bearers were buried here, and this was where the last Mantle-bearer locked himself in to prevent the Didact from recovering it. This responsibility now falls to you, Exalted Reclaimer, to pick up the duty he left behind and fulfil the wishes of the Most Elder Ones."

Lucky looks over at him. "Which of us is taking it?"

"You're leading this mission." He steps back.

"I don't want it."

"One of you must take it." Cascade insists. "You are the only two eligible."

"There are other humans-" Lucky begins. 

"No." Cascade interrupts, firm.

"Other Spartans still alive-"

"-are not suitable!" Cascade squawks. "Nor are they present. If they were candidates, they would be here now. Master Chief has done so, twice. It is not hard."

"Sierra."

She looks over at him, surprised at the use of her name. 

"Take it."

"Yes, Reclaimer, listen to him." 

She ignores the sphere. "John . . . "

"We're both lucky, but never lucky enough to get out of trouble. Even if only for the short term, this will help stop the Didact."

She takes a hard breath, unconvinced. "I don't know, John."

"I would take this for you if I could. But we both know I can't."

She hesitates, then nods. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize for worry. Worry keeps us alive." He reaches over, gun lowered, and takes her hand.

She squeezes, then walks toward the dais. 

* * *

"A transmission?"

"No, Sir, a beacon."

Rtas rattles his mandibles, irritated. "Saying  _what_?"

"Warrior Lucky is en-route for a return. ETA is three hours. She claims she needs you and the Arbiter ready to convene with her and the Demon as soon as they land."

"Send back a confirmation."

"Yes, sir."

Rtas leaves immediately. If Lucky were to go so far as to send them a warning of her arrival long before she would be there, that means they found something greatly distressing on the planet the fragment beacon had issued from. He supposes it's only likely - they've been gone for two months on recon and with their breed, it was only a matter of time before they came across trouble. 

"Take me to the Arbiter." He tells the shipboard AI of a Phantom. 

Lucky, their Kahnoh, has very little difference from her father. While he had been wary of the idea of bringing the Demon to Sangheili soil, it has turned out for the better. Master Chief had been nothing but an asset, and the socialization he provides their adopted daughter was exactly what she needed when she needed it. A companion, more physical and reactive than her AI, but stable and clear-sighted. The Demon, after all, was nothing if not calm under fire. 

Rtas had not been shy to announce her joining his household. He'd told as many as had dared ask him about her accomplishments, the feats she had done that gained her admittance. She had grown into the nickname "Demon" well, her very presence enough to demoralize the enemy and revitalize his troops. He loves her, as he feels only a proud parent could, and knows Thel harbours a similar sentiment. She is their  _kahnoh_ , their most precious daughter. 

Thel meets him at the base of his tower, likely having gotten a transmission sent ahead. 

"She returns?"

"She does." He confirmed. "She brings news, likely volatile news."

"For us or for others?" Thel wonders. 

"I cannot guess. She was brief."

"I see." Thel ducks his head, thinking. "Then we are in great danger."

"Yes, I believe so."

They wait in a conference hall for the remaining time, anxious and unwilling to admit it. Time passepasses, but in what increments, they can't tell. Minutes feel like hours, and hours like minutes. The fretting is doing them no good, but it's all they have. 

The door across the room slides open and two identical units of MJOLNIR armour walk into the room, one slightly more aged than the other. They both stand to greet their comrades, their Demons. 

"I can't say I expected this welcome." Lucky admits, her armour older and more dinged, but slimmer fitting. 

"Then you should have known better than to panic us,  _kahnoh_." Rtas barks, but it is not sharp. He is worried, and that shows more than any real anger. 

"What news?" Thel asks, softer. 

Lucky nudges Chief and he nods, reaching back to pull out the chip that had once contained Cortana. He holds it upright, then a female appears in the projection. 

"It's good to see you again, Arbiter." She says with a smile, the woman that Master Chief had risked death for more than once - Cortana. 

"Likewise." He replies, inclining his head. "But how."

"An Oracle." Lucky gestures next to her head and an Oracle floats in, humming. "Meet 936 Preeminent Cascade, the caretaker of Requiem and Page of the Librarian."

"Sangheili!" Cascade chirps. "How lovely to see your species has recovered so thoroughly."

"I- I see." Thel looks back down at her, eyes narrowing. "What about you has changed?"

"Yes, I notice it too." Rtas took a step forward. 

"Oh, that's very simple." Cascade chimes. "She has acquired the Mantle."

"The Mantle?" The two look between each other. "That was a myth."

"No, it's, uh, it's very real." Lucky looks to the side, Chief's fingers brushing hers in solidarity. Her helmet obscures her face as her armour shields her body. "But that's not why I sent the transmission."

"What, then?"

"The Didact is alive." Chief speaks up. "He has been regrouping."

"Forefathers." Rtas breathes. "What do we do?"

"I think he plans to strike Earth." John says from her suit speakers. "He thinks the blow will cripple her forces and possible morale."

"It would be wise. Strike her homeworld."

"That's why we came here first." Lucky speaks again. "If he attacks here first, you'll know and be ready. If he doesn't and goes straight for Earth, I need you to come with me. Two Spartans can't push back against an entire fleet."

"We are with you." Rtas says. "As ever,  _kahnoh_."

"Gather the armies and ready them. I'll send a transmission when we get a firm handling on the Didact's location. In the meantime, we have to go to Earth and convince them this is happening."

"They would not believe they would be invaded?" Rtas cocks his head. 

"Not until they're right on the doorstep." Chief murmurs. "They only knew about Harmony three months after its annihilation."

"How unfortunate."

"And the politics around it." Chief shook his head. "It'll take time."

Rtas clicks his mandibles in frustration. "Politics. The hierarchs were just the same."

Chief can't help his little laugh - the killers of all three of the Prophets are standing in this room. 

"And I'm a bit of a wildcard, showing up there after the stunts I've pulled with the UNSC." Lucky says, then lifts off her helmet. 

Her hair is still brown and full, her eyes still a wicked blue and her skin still the same freckled and rose-dusted pale of her father's. However, underneath that layer of freckles flashes streaks of blue not dissimilar to Cortana and John's running code. They pulse up into her eyes on occasion, making them burst and spark with light. 

"What is this?" Rtas, always the more affectionate in his physicality, reaches out and gently brushes her face, right over the arc of a pulse of light. 

"The Mantle." She says at a whisper. "It's the Mantle."

"Seeing her with it will make them uneasy. If she doesn't take off her helmet, that will also unnerve them." Chief explains. "It'll be difficult, especially trying to bypass the Mantle's function, which will only cause more grief."

"I concur." Thel murmured. "Is there a way to cover it?"

"Negative." John chips in. "Even smeared in dirt, the lines shine through."

"They are meant to." Cascade breaks back into the conversation. "They must be able to identify you at a glance, as the one under the burden of the Mantle."

"And what does that mean, Holy Oracle?" Thel asks. 

"As the Bearer, Lucky-117-Beta is the epicentre of control in the universe, just as the Progenitors intended. The power was usurped by the Forerunners, my creators, and used against the humans. Now, humanity has sit the bearings to rights."

"What does it allow her to do?" Thel clarifies. 

"Oh! She can control all sentient life. Self-aware beings will respond to her commands. And, until such time as she dies, she will have access to all the knowledge of her previous Bearers and be impervious to usurpers herself."

"Control . . . " Thel and Rtas both look down at her in new light and she seems to shrink away from them. 

"I took it because the Didact wanted it." She says firmly. "That's it."

They glance at each other and realize that while she is well-versed in Sangheili culture, there is no way she could have known about the importance of the Mantle and the Bearers in their religion. 

"It is not with trepidation,  _kahnoh_ . . ." Rtas begins, but doesn't have the words to carry on, in either tongue. 

"You've become Holy." Thel breathes. 

Lucky looks over at Chief, who takes off his own helmet to soothe her. He doesn't look at her any differently. He has no need to - she's Sierra, Lucky, and that's all she'll ever need to be for him. It just reinforces Thel's decision to have brought him here as the right one. 

"We believed it was best to brief you in person, where the Didact wouldn't be able to hear." Chief says, meeting their gaze. Sometimes, the green in his eyes makes him look softer than he truly is, more fragile. "We're going to resupply, then head for Earth."

"Yes." Thel shakes himself out of religious thrall. "Yes, that is what must be done."

Rtas, too, snaps back to himself, though he can't help but to stroke her face once more. "I will see to your ship."

"Thank you." She says, lowering her eyes. 

"Have your armour checked, then be on your way." Thel tells them. "There is little time left to do something so large."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Kahnoh" means "Treasure" in Sangheili.


End file.
